


blood on his hands (& the truth on his face)

by raincityruckus



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Slapping, also bath time, post battle fuckin', spitting, there's just a bunch of blood, you can't prove this isn't canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raincityruckus/pseuds/raincityruckus
Summary: “I did slap you,” she agrees, speaking against his chest “I might have to do it again sometime.”Ealhswith feels like she  doesn’t know the version of her husband who followed Uhtred into battle and until the fight is a little closer to home, she doesn’t.Or: Sihtric’s after action report except by report I mean kitchen table fuckin'
Relationships: Ealhswith/Sihtric (The Last Kingdom)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25





	blood on his hands (& the truth on his face)

**Author's Note:**

> I take no responsibility for my actions, none. This is on my enablers, especially [mamandisla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamandisla/pseuds/mamandisla) and [bellwetherr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellwetherr/pseuds/bellwetherr) who gun to my head made me do it. I had no choice. This was also inspired by bellwetherr's [Lover to Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889347) which is very good post battle fuckin' with light kink. 
> 
> Title is from Dorothy's "Dark Nights" which I feel like everyone should listen to.

Usually when Sihtric is bloodied he is far from Ealhswith, with Uhtred on a path that she can’t follow. She learns about it only after the fact, when he is sweet and calm and laughs at her for fussing over new scars - still pink and shiny but healed. When stories of blood and battle seem distant and hazy, the life of another man who is remarkably like but is not her husband. 

And then the fight finds them in Coccham. Or so close that the distinction doesn’t matter. Though she knows it is only her mind playing tricks on her, Ealhswith would swear that she can hear the ring of swords and thunder of shields. 

There is blood in his hair when her husband fills the doorway of their home. His shoulders broader in his armor than they have any business being. There is blood and dirt on his hands and the butt of his axe thuds dully on the floor. Blood still drips from a cut in his hairline but the edge of his blade is clean, wiped down with care. Ealhswith feels her breath catch, Sihtric’s presence pushing the air out of the large room that is their first floor. 

Buttery sunlight streams through the windows, shutters thrown open. It seems wrong that it be such a nice day out, the sun chasing a lingering chill out of the air. Dustmotes sparkle in the light that doesn’t quite reach him on the other side of the room. His large frame blocks the light from the door, casting a shadow that stretches towards her and making it hard to see his face.

For all that Ealhswith feels robbed of air, Sihtric breathes heavy and deep. The leather of his armor creaks as he steps forward, lets the door bang shut behind him. The sound makes her jerk and Sihtric doesn’t smile. His eyes don’t crinkle at the edges and he doesn’t reach out to tease her for her jumpiness. A muscle jumps at the hinge of his jaw, a bead of blood has trailed down in front of his ear and it falls from his jaw. The wet sound of it is drowned out by the race of her own pulse. 

In the poor light she can’t tell his eyes are different colours or that there is a hint of a scar under one eyebrow. But she can see the smear of blood by his mouth. The streaks of it on his arms and armor. Ealhswith looks up at the man who is and is not her husband. 

“Sihtric,” her voice cracks, ashy on the rush of heat coiling up her spine. The stillness of the room shatters on a snarl from somewhere deep in his chest. 

His hands are gritty when they find her arms, damp with blood that isn’t all his. The table rattles as he crowds her back against its, one thick leg forcing between hers even though it tangles in her full skirts. With his grip on her arms Ealhswith can do little more than let him kiss her, let his mouth slant against hers in a hard press of lips and tongue and _teeth _. Her hands find his belt, curl against warm leather and she drags him closer pressing his hard body against her even though the blood and filth of battle smears against her dress.__

__His hands find her shoulders. They shake as he skates his fingertips up the sides of her throat, his thumbs pressing but not stopping where her pulse hammers under her jaw. They settle in her hair, tangling the dark curls in his fists until her head is tipped back at an awkward angle. The pull against her scalp is a warm burn and she can feel him straining when she slides her hands up the leather of his armor, presses against his chest. There is a wild dark light in his eyes and his lips thin with the effort he makes to rein it back in._ _

__“Eal,” he says, somehow conversational and casual like he is not still bleeding. Like there is not another man’s blood on Thor’s hammer around his neck. His hands flex in her hair, fingers gentling until he scrapes his nails softly against her scalp. A familiar shiver slides down her neck and Ealhswith licks her dry lips. His wild dark eyes track the movement, the corner of his own lip curling back in almost a sneer._ _

__She feels the breath he takes because her hands are pressed flat on his chest. Feels his breath shift to a high, shallow his as he pulls himself away from some edge, from her. Ealhswith acts before she thinks. The fingers of one hand curl into the neck of his armor, curl against the bare skin beneath, damp with sweat and hold him close. When she slaps him it isn’t loud or particularly hard but it still echoes in the room, thunders in her ears and he turns his head with it. The beads she put in his hair catch the sunlight and glitter._ _

__His breath comes out harsh and ragged and when he dips his head he mouths her wrist where she still holds his armor. When he doesn’t do anything else Ealhswith shifts her weight. His hand is tight around her wrist before she can more than think it and her back thumps against the table so hard the breath is forced out of her in a gasp. His grip is tight, hard enough it aches and she realizes that she’ll wear a bracelet of his fingers. The thought makes her pant._ _

__He should be angry but for the first time since he stepped through their door Ealhswith sees a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips. His body fits perfectly between his thighs, his erection obvious even through the layers of their clothes and the snarl he makes as he grinds against her is more animal than man._ _

__“I married all of you,” Ealhswith tells him, and his gaze flickers from her mouth back to her eyes. Her fingers left a streak in the blood on his cheek. His blood. She can feel it on her finger tips._ _

__“Alright.”_ _

__His fist twists in her hair, a sharp sting she somehow wasn’t expecting. She might have protested but she did slap him, turnabout seems like fair play. The ache drops her jaw open in a gasp. So Sihtric spits into her open mouth. It should horrify her. But there is a direct line between it and her cunt. Something low and vital inside of her clenches hard enough she arches up on the table under the looming weight of his body. The moan it pulls from her is the most wanton sounds she’s ever made._ _

__Which is saying something given her former profession._ _

__His mouth fits over hers and there’s no more room to think. There’s no space or breath to worry about anything beyond the press of his body and the mean bite of his teeth at her lips. The kiss is wholly new, wholly devouring as he chases himself across her tongue. He releases her wrist so he can fumble her skirts up her thighs, shoving them roughly out of his way as she fumbles with his armor, far too many layers between them when he has so thoroughly set her alight. Finally he shoves her back down onto the table, hard enough her bones rattle with the impact and handles his armor himself. He is only as undressed as he has to be, and her skirts are barley shoved out of the way. When he snaps his hips up in and into her, drives himself into the hilt with one long motion the rough edges of his armor bite into her thighs._ _

__“Fuck.” He bites the word into her mouth and her thigh hitches of his hips, opening herself to take him deeper. He fucks her like he’s still fighting, driving snaps of his hips and one hand holding her other thigh back against the table._ _

__Sweat shines his skin and he should be grotesque. This man who is so like the husband she has known and yet new, should terrify her with his bloody face and his rough mouth. Ealhswith aches somewhere deep behinder her lungs with a hot, hungry need for everything that he can give her. For this violent, immediate knowledge that he came home to her. That for all the blood her man is home and he’s hers._ _

__“All yours,” he agrees and Ealhswith didn’t even realize she’d said it aloud until he does._ _

__He leans forward, braces his arm against the table and his hips stutter, his rhythm starts to go to shit. Above her in the sunlight his amulet nearly glows, the spray of blood on it more ruby than gore. Her teeth click against the metal when she closes her mouth on it, presses her tongue against the cool metal like it’s an extension of his body. His eyes flash wide, catch hers as he grinds in against her, folding on his arm to press himself into her body._ _

__Over the metal in her mouth he kisses her sloppy and brutal and careless. All that matters in the moment is his mouth on hers, the hammer of his heart she can feel through all the layers of their clothes. He spills himself inside of her, hot and vital and still here, still hers. She doesn’t care which God or Gods it was that brought him home to her. She’s just glad he’s here._ _

__Even if she didn’t find her own peak. She sketches him a tired grin, flopping back on the worn wooden table where they eat their meals together. He’s home now and there will be plenty of time for him to work her up the shining edge of her own climax. This, whatever it was, served another purpose. Despite the slap and the spitting and the ache of rough use Ealhswith feels calm and content, like a missing piece of her husband has been put back where it belongs._ _

__She resolves herself to being satisfied enough with her husband’s homecoming, his pleasure, when he lets himself slip out of her. A rush of heat and wet against her thighs marks the mess they’ve made of her and she huffs a shaky laugh. His beard tickles her throat and collar bone as he moughts down her neck, the neck of her dress folds under his chin and he kisses at the sweat damp skin above her breasts._ _

__“Let me see that cut,” she says but instead of pulling her up Sihtric quirks and eyebrow at her, bites the curve of her breast through the fabric of her dress._ _

__He sinks to his knees between her thighs, guiding one leg up over his shoulder. The heavy lidded gaze he gives her is all heat and Ealhswith squeezes her eyes shut for fear that she will ignite from just his gaze alone._ _

__“Look at me,” he says and when she doesn’t open her eyes right away a sharp slap cracks on the sensitive inside of her thigh. Her whole body jerks and she feels a fresh wave of wetness escape her as her body clenches reflexively. His chuckle is dark and low and masculine. Something ill suited to sunny afternoons at their kitchen table._ _

__The thought makes her laugh and when she looks down at Sihtric he presses his mouth against the place he slapped her, tracing the hot flesh with a drag of his tongue. He doesn’t stop there though, he mouths his way up her thighs, lips and tongue tracking through the mess they’ve made of her. There is no hesitation as he presses his tongue between her folds in a long agonizing stroke that misses the one place she most needs to feel him._ _

__“Look at me,” he says again, his mouth moving against her folds, already tender from his use. Ealhswith has no words for him, she can do nothing at all but what he asks. He does smile then, his eyes crinkling at the edges the way she’s used to and he sets to work with an enthusiasm that has her legs trembling in moments._ _

__Never once does he let her break eye contact. No matter how he teases her he holds her gaze, hardly blinking as he works her up the glorious height of her peak with the practice of a man who has been her lover for years. Her fingers curl in his hair and it is all she can do to be careful of the cut still sluggishly healing there. He works her expertly, his tongue lashing at the tight bud of pleasure which sends hot sparks rolling up her spine. He has her toes curling and the leg over his shoulder trembles but the edge of her peak alludes her._ _

__She sobs in frustration at the ache of wanting release and not quite finding it._ _

__And then Sihtric slaps her again, that same bright sting in the same place, already sensitive from his first slap. The spark of it is like lightning igniting under her skin and her throat is raw with the force of her cry. His strong arms hold her hips down when her body torques up off the table. His laugh is muffled against her thigh where he kisses her, holding her steady until she can lay still on her own._ _

__It is only after they have pulled themselves off the table that he strips down. He lets her ease him into their tub, a luxury he had surprised her with when Uhtred’s fortunes had been particularly good. He drapes his arms over the edge, head dropped forward as she turns the bath water dingy with her work. Her shift is translucent where the water splashes her as she works the cloth over his skin. Ealhswith wonders who does this for him when he is far from home. She kisses his damp shoulder, the ends of her hair getting wet as it falls forward around his shoulders. His muscles move under her lips and his hand comes back to pet through her hair. It’s not a smooth motion, his damp hand gets tangled in her hair and he settles for scraping his fingertips against her scalp._ _

__“I never want to frighten you,” he says, voice thick. It’s exhaustion now, not desire and Ealhswith tips her head up, kisses the hinge of his jaw, the hollow of his cheek._ _

__“I love all of you. I want all of you,” she says simply, “just as you love all of me.”_ _

__“Eal you know that never bothered me,” he sighs and the water sloshes as he twists to look at her. She lets him press his mouth against her hairline._ _

__“Did I sound like that bothered me?” She asks, pulling back to meet his eyes. She splashes water up into his face, grinning impishly at him when he sputters._ _

__“You did slap me,” he says, his smile easy if tired. She pushes up to her feet and holds her hands out to him. Pulling him up to his feet spills more water and winds up with a very wet husband in her arms, soaking through her shift._ _

__She loops her arms around his waist, tucking her face against his chest. She finally lets herself give a shudder of worry. He is here and he is whole, clean and naked in her arms. One large hand settles in her hair as he curls his arms around her, letting her slight frame take more of his weight._ _

__“I did slap you,” she agrees, speaking against his chest “I might have to do it again sometime.”_ _

__“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he says, voice muffled against her hair._ _

__Ealhswith knows she should get him to bed. She can feel his exhaustion and though he might not be hurt he has scrapes and cuts that need to heal, he’s going to be more sore come morning and sleep will help. But she lets him give her his weight and tucks herself into his chest all the same. She’ll see him to bed, she’ll get him something to eat. But later. Now she has her husband in her arms and there is no version of him she doesn’t know._ _

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
